ships passing through the night
by Eulerian
Summary: A steaming pile of Kross / Sul garbage.
1. break a leg

A sound was on the wind; he was not alone. Without even turning his head, Kross instinctively reached out to the side and one-handedly smashed the newcomer into the temple wall. Years of battle-honed senses screamed out at the presence of this intruder in his territory and it took everything in him to not automatically crush the throat caught under his palm. "Are you out of your mind?" he hissed, when he saw who his visitor was. "Or do you just like being almost killed on a constant basis?"

"I think you underestimate me," his intruder said calmly, going very still. "It would take more than that to end my existence."

Kross growled, firmly applying more pressure. Pinned against the wall, Sul winced minutely, both hands going to his throat. If the magician had actually wanted to get away, Kross was certain there were a thousand things he could have done about the situation and a million things he could have done to not cause it in the first place. The only reasonable explanation was that this was just another sick game to him, the same way he viewed the Great Race. That was one thing Kross could never forgive him for -seeing the entire thing as just a way to kill a few months of boredom.

After a few long moments, Kross released him. "Get out, Sul. I am in no mood to deal with you today. Alleviate your boredom some other way."

"And bother the other competitors?" Sul said, taking a few wary steps to the side. "Why ever would I do that?" He always abandoned levitation while on the Crog module. Kross had to wonder why but he had to admit it made it all the easier to put the Gumarian back into his place.

"Because you are more bored with your life than you hate me," Kross said, turning away. He had other things to worry about besides an errant magician on his doorstep. There were communications to attend to, princes to intimidate, and generally other duties that did not involve Sul in the least.

Sul hummed a bit, following a few paces behind him. Kross could hear his catlike footsteps brushing against the stone. "You are the one who keeps attacking me -inside and outside of the race course, I have to add. I really should bring up a complaint to the Avatar."

"You do that," Kross dismissed. "Have fun explaining your trespasses as well."

"Technically," Sul said, serene, "there is no rule that a competitor may not visit another's module. In fact, there are barely any rules at all now that I think about it." He was infuriating like that. No wonder he was a hermit; Kross bet that even his own kind could not stand him.

"There is also no rule that says I cannot stuff you into a sack and throw it off the nearest ledge," the Crog snapped. "Unfortunately for the both of us, the odds are such that you would probably survive." Honestly, he had to wonder if staying in the race was even worth it at that point. There was little chance of either the Earth or Nourasian teams actually claiming the Ultimate Prize and with the Imperium lining its warships right outside of Earth space, Kross was sure that victory was naturally at hand anyways. Earning the Ultimate Prize at this point seemed almost redundant.

Now if he were to get himself disqualified, he would certainly do it with the satisfaction of taking Sul down with him in some fiery wreck. To his annoyance, however, the magician actually seemed to be able to back up those rumors of being as powerful as the Avatar. He could, through pure willpower, take a several direct hits from the Trident's proton cannon without falter. And here he was, just wasting his potential by stewing in his loneliness and acting like a child begging for pity and attention.

It had occurred to Kross quite a few times that Sul was considered to be only nearing middle age among his species. It meant numbering a couple of thousand years but still. In terms of maturity, Kross was actually his senior, being a few decades short of forcible retirement. Elders were respected in Crog society; the older somebody was, the more likely it was that they had gotten there simply by surviving everything the world thrown at them and that they could still (with some difficulty) put a younger upstart in their place. Kross did not envision himself ever becoming an elder simply because he intended to never retire, rules to the contrary be damned. He was good at what he did (which was razing planets) and he had a seat on the Imperium's council. If somebody wanted him to retire, they could fight him to the death over the matter.

Lost in thought over how exactly he could try to do Sul in for good, Kross missed the magician's retort. What he did not miss, however, was another person intruding on his personal space. He landed an armored fist into Sul's unprotected stomach, sending him stumbling against the wall.

"Will you stop doing that!" Against his better judgment, Kross was at the magician's side in an instant. "If I did not know better, I would say that you actually enjoy this."

"It's interesting," Sul mumbled, words slightly slurred and sounding just a bit out of it. "You learn to value certain sensations more when you are constantly deprived of them." At least that explained the lack of levitation.

"I could break your legs," Kross offered, serious for once, even as he bodily picked the magician off the ground. "You hardly need them and I would not get disqualified for it." He was sure he would not be. More serious injuries had certainly been had over the course of the Great Race.

"Would you?" He had to stare at the magician's tone, which was both frighteningly intrigued and hopeful. Sul blinked at him with the greatest innocence.

Kross growled in disgust, pushing him away. "No, not anymore. It rather defeats the point if you ask for it." It was also disturbing, because Kross actually felt even more ready to oblige him. There was something thrilling about being given permission. It was almost like getting paid to do it.

Sul merely nodded, however. As Kross continued his rounds, the magician shadowed him from a distance throughout the module. Try as he might to ignore him, Kross only became more and more aware of his presence.

Eventually, he heaved a long sigh, taking one step back and swinging out on arm. He caught Sul at the throat, shoving him up against another wall. "I give up. What are you playing at here?"

Sul shrugged or, rather, tried to. "I am the master of time, space, and even the course of destiny," he said, sounding bored. "It gets to be very lonely."

"So find somebody to fuck and get it over with," Kross said, stopping when the magician's eyes went to the side. He slammed him into the wall and something inside of him was delighted. He pushed it away to deal with later. "Are you fucking out of your mind?"

"The Earth pilot is a child," Sul said by way of explanation, sounding disgusted. "So is the Nourasian. The two Inna are already partners. Muir is barely sapient. Ondai is a robot. O is," he seemed to struggle for a moment. "Himself."

Kross grasped for straws. "What about Furter?"

"Who?" Sul tilted his head to the side, appearing to be genuinely confused. Kross could not tell if it was an act or not. He supposed that it did not matter. "In any case, as you can see, I am running out of options."

"You could always forget what I said and not become sexually involved with your opponents," Kross pointed out dryly. "You seem to have been fine all this time."

His answer was a serene "Yes."

The worst part was that Kross was seriously considering it. There was something very appealing about power to Crogs, or maybe it was simply another natural cycle. Sul had an awful lot of it, more than Kross could even dream of. To be even in its proximity was awe-inspiring, not that he would admit it. He glanced at the magician standing tranquilly in his grasp. Experimentally, Kross tightened his grip suddenly, causing him to gasp in -no wait, he was not going to think about it.

Or maybe he would. Kross's eye narrowed. "Fine, but I still get to break your legs."

"That is reasonable," Sul agreed.


	2. break a leg 2

In the end, Kross broke Sul's legs twice, once because he was promised it and again because Sul was built like a twig and the first time had been deeply unsatisfying. There was no real agreement about what they would do about the following situation, which resulted in a short scuffle on the temple floor. Kross won by virtue of being heavier and also because it was painfully obvious Sul had never been in a physical fight in the entirety of his long, long life. The resulting circumstances were a little less than ideal but at least Kross could say it was not actually the worst night he had experienced. It was simply mediocre, excepting of the part where he broke some bones.

"That was pathetic," Kross told the magician when they were done, because they still hated each other and he had to. "Really, honestly pathetic. No wonder you're a monk." He kicked Sul half-heartedly in the side from where he lay on the ground.

The magician made a sound of agreement but otherwise did not move. It looked a little like he was cradling his wrist. Kross might have also snapped it at some point. It was hard to say with all of the activity that had been going on.

Kross kicked him again but Sul failed to do anything remotely interesting besides sigh in pain. He had been doing that a lot lately. "Now get out of my module."

"I physically cannot," Sul said, because, as Kross was discovering, he did in fact have a sense of humor. The problem was that most of it was at Kross's expense.

"You can fucking teleport," Kross growled, looking for his gauntlets. He distinctly remembered throwing them somewhere. "I have literally seen you do it. Now go and do that."

"It's a waste of magic." The shrug was obvious in Sul's voice. "Maybe later."

Kross threw a rock at him. Almost immediately, it exploded into dust. He stared for a moment. "And that was not?"

With a sigh, Sul pulled himself into a sitting position, grimacing a little as he moved his legs. "If you keep attacking me, I will stop telling you things," he chided. This time, when Kross tried to kick him, he slipped out of range, pain written on his face.

"You are a child," Kross accused. "The galaxy is doomed if you win the race."

"Aren't the Crogs the ones who are aiming for complete galactic conquest?" Sul remarked idly. "I could have sworn that was the case but I might be confusing you with some other warmongering species. You all tend to blur together after a while."

"I will personally raze Gumaria to the ground after Earth," Kross started, stopping when Sul held up a hand.

"Yes, yes, and you will enslave our women, burn our cities, desecrate our temples, sow the fields with salt, build pyramids of skulls, and feed our offspring to yours so that their blood might make yours stronger," Sul drawled, frowning as he moved his wrist around. "I have heard this before so please save your breath."

Kross threw another rock at him. It, too, exploded.


End file.
